Nautilus’ appearance, pre-transformation

The man next to the chair had his back to them. He stood five foot ten at the most, not much taller than Madelyn, and had long black hair like her, too. His thick ponytail was bound with a half dozen strings down its length. He wore two or three layers, but all the sleeves had been torn off. St. George wasn’t sure if the man’s skin was very tanned or naturally dark. A curling tattoo wrapped around the man’s right bicep, an intricate array of bold lines and triangles.
He had solid arms, St. George noticed. Not huge, but not thin. A worker, not a gym rat.
…
The man looked Polynesian, or maybe Asian. He had large eyes, a small nose, and a stern mouth framed by a square jaw. The ponytail pulled every strand of hair away from his face.
His clothes hung on him. The threadbare pants and silk shirt were at least two sizes too big for him. Maybe three. A leather vest that could’ve fit Captain Freedom draped over the man’s shoulders, reaching halfway down his thighs. All the loops of extra fabric made St. George think of the baggy ren faire clothes he’d seen sometimes on the college campus he used to work at, back in the days before the ex-virus.
The man was barefoot on the wooden deck. His feet were smooth. Not the feet of someone who went barefoot a lot of the time.

Excerpt From Ex-Isle, pg 318, 320
Peter Clines
https://books.apple.com/us/book/ex-isle/id989619017